


a pint of moondust milk

by Mistropolis



Category: Deemo (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 14:03:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15463023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistropolis/pseuds/Mistropolis
Summary: Alice made moondust milk for her dearly beloved.





	a pint of moondust milk

**Author's Note:**

> there was never a whole pint of the milk i just like the word.
> 
> anyway celia made me emo all the time and this fic is only somewhat an attempt to capture what makes me so sad for her since this is an impulse fic tbh... hope you guys will enjoy it nonetheless!! thank you for reading!!

Ten hours later, Hans will find himself seated in front of a piano with the scores of Flight of the Bumblebee, his hands traversing across the keys and making music for the audience below. Among the audience, Hans might find himself the subjects of three stern judges with sharp gazes. A fourth, maybe, if you count his little sister too.

Admittedly, the idea of the judges being stern in particular to him has largely been part of Hans’ imagination, and much less actual knowledge on the competition’s judges themselves. Nevertheless, there is no doubt that his skills would once again be put to the test, and Hans normally wouldn’t quite describe himself as good with faster pieces of music.

A fumble on the C key. Hans allows himself a small sigh before forging on, knowing every second before sleep tonight is crucial and best not wasted on regretting otherwise unimportant mistakes now.

A misstep before the next part. Playing the D key instead of the E key. Hans’ sighs grow in frequency.

After what seems like forever, Hans puts his hands back down on his lap. It almost feels like he has just gone on a marathon. How many times has he practised by now, because it could definitely still qualify as a marathon for his fingers, Hans thought to himself with a small chuckle.

He looks up at the clock then. One o’clock. He still has around seven hours to sleep if he goes now.

He places his fingers back on the keyboard.

A slither of light shines, extending across the room, accompanied by the shadow of a small figure with long hair.

“Alice?”

The shadow creeps into the room, and in the light, Alice’s worried countenance appears. “Hans, aren’t you going to go sleep anytime soon? You have to wake up early for the piano competition tomorrow morning, right?”

“Yeah. That’s why I’m still… practising…” Hans lowers his voice gradually as he realizes how the line of his logical reasoning might appear inane to his little sister. “You don’t have to worry for me! Just go back to sleep.”

Alice considerably frowns for a moment with a small pout, but she nods and off she leaves the room with the quiet sound of her closing the door. Hans looks back at his piano scores. Time to get back to practising.

“Would you, perchance, like some milk crafted from the finest bits of moon dust?”

Hans startles, thumping down on the keyboard with a resounding thud of shock. He turns around to an equally shocked Alice gesturing to a mug on the table next to her.

“Hans! I nearly dropped the milk there!”

“Sorry I scared you there, God, I really should have gone to sleep huh…” Hans turns back to Alice then. “Did I hear that you brought me something?”

Alice rolls her eyes, fondly, then points back at the mug. “I forgive you. Anyway, here’s the milk I’ve brought to you after I have travelled to the moon and asked for the appropriate ingredients from the Watcher there.”

“The Watcher?”

Alice does a small pirouette and a small leap. “Yeah! He’s a stern man who demands lots of chores from me before giving me what I need to make this unique mug of milk. Luckily, all heroines triumph, and that’s how I have enough to craft this energizing and fantastic drink! So drink up!”

Hans takes the mug from the table as tentatively as possible. He looks into the mug and gives it a small sniff. Chocolate milk. Hans’ favourite.

“Doesn’t the moondust look great? It definitely tastes great too, I promise you!”

Alice’s smile widens as Hans continues to drink it, and not even a few minutes later Hans is already done with the drink.

“How did you manage to get it this late in the night though? I didn’t think any seven-year-old girl could wake up this late and complete the Watcher’s challenges and even make the drink all by herself!”

Alice huffs up her chest in pride. “Who do you think your younger sister is? I’m no ordinary seven-year-old, I reassure you!”

“Of course I know you aren’t, after all, only my little sister could make such a good drink like this!”

Hans settles back to his bed after hearing tales of how Alice managed to convince the Watcher on the moon to give her the ingredients of the moondust milk, and all the methods she went by to make it.

Hans eventually falls asleep to the taste of moondust on his tongue and the joyous visage of his little sister, dancing on the moon.

 

⚝

 

the little girl now knows about every notch and corner of this castle like the back of her palm. while the mysteries of the onyx-black stranger remains inscrutable to her, she has at least familiarized herself the finer details of the castle, where she could find the masked lady, where she could find the doll mirai, and even where she could find the most ordinary-looking cup.

with that said, however, the little girl also notices that the placement of some of these utensils would look quite just a bit out of place. or rather; they don’t look like they should belong here anyway. for example, in the first few weeks (weeks? how long has she been here?”) as soon as she realized there’s no need for any of them to eat, eating utensils like spoons and forks are still present and easily obtainable.

in particular, there’s a mug on the table that never seems to have been moved. the little girl has tried several times to ask both deemo and the masked lady on its existence, only to earn silence and sideways glance lacking any interest respectively.

with no one to give her the info she wants, the little girl resigns to taking notes of the mug herself.

while all other items have no signs of ever being used and moved constantly for some reasons, the mug has always remained static at where it is on the table, a resolute figure with traces of rust all over it, or at least what the little girl assumes to be rust. it has definitely been used, multiple times, maybe much, much more. the mug looks rather plain as well, even for the multiple marks on it.

“what are you doing with the mug?”

the little girl startles, nearly losing her grip on the mug enough to topple it over. she turns back to the source of the voice after she rights the mug again, and finds herself face to face with a pale white mask.

“... i’m sorry, what did i do wrong just now?”

“everything you’re doing here is wrong.” the masked lady hisses, as she pushes past the little girl, not in a gentle manner, to get to the mug on the table. she takes it up briefly, almost caressing the rusts gathered on the mug, before placing it back onto its spot on the table gently.

this is not a ritual the little girl understands, but she learns to keep her mouth shut. before the masked lady is done tampering with the mug anyway. or whatever she was trying to do with it.

“you, you know,” the little girl starts again. “i’ve always wondered what your presence in this castle means. do you know anything about here? do you know why deemo and you and i are—”

“even if i know anything, i won’t tell you.” the masked lady answers coldly, shooting her a definitely cold glare, before turning away from her and walking away. the sound of footsteps fades gradually.

the little girl looks back at the mug.

upon closer inspection, it almost looks like the mug has shapes like stars and clouds on the surface. the little girl ever so gently takes up the mug in her hands yet again, her face getting closer and closer to the mug. the vague patches of rust do resemble stars, one such even looking around enough to be a moon. stars, clouds, and the moon… maybe these aren’t etchings of rust, but genuine drawings?

in what is potentially a lapse in judgement, the little girl takes the mug out of the room altogether.

 

.

 

deemo finds a mug on the piano one day.

the mug doesn’t have any particular feature of interest, but it does have a rather plain colouration. deemo takes the mug closer to his face, and several patches of what appears to be rust become more apparent.

the little girl comes in behind, the pattering sound of her feet heralding what seems to be a joyous and casual mood.

“deemo, i have been kinda wondering something… if you know where this mug is from?”

the little girl’s inquiry places something akin to nervousness in deemo. he looks back at the mug.

… it’s just a mug, right? is there any reason he should know what it is? is there any reason for him to react in any specific manner to the presence of this mug?

hesitantly, deemo sits down on the piano, ready to play again.

the little girl pouts. “i’m taking no talking from you either then? not that i’m too shocked by that.”

the scores that are put on deemo’s piano have become less and less, but in spite of that deemo forges on, determination blazing on his fingertips.

the little girl walks from here and there, instead of the pirouettes and dances deemo has become used to seeing. soon enough, the little girl stops in her unlively steps.

“deemo? i think i have come to a conclusion; if there’s eating utensils lying around, i think that must mean that you do eat and drink like any other people! so, what do you want to drink?”

deemo’s hands slow, and eventually stop. eat? drink? for some reasons, the latter seems like an attractive option that he has otherwise never considered.

the little girl takes another close look at the cup, then grins. “i got an idea! i can make you some chocolate milk if you like!”

chocolate milk…?

“i knew you can’t do this after all.”

the brightness seems to have been sapped by the masked lady’s presence, as she steps in with what might possibly be the most angered she has been behind her mask, judging by the way she’s visibly shaking.

“i, i can’t do it… ?”

“if you can do it, you wouldn’t have called it stupid chocolate milk!”

the masked lady grabs the mug away rapidly and pats on the mug with her overly long sleeves. after making sure there’s no indeed no dust or any other marks on the mug, the masked lady turns away from deemo and grabs on the little girl’s wrist.

“come along, and i might still teach you the proper way to do it.”

 

.

 

there’s a kitchen hidden around the corner leading to where the masked lady is usually seen reading. she barely has opened a big enough entry point for the little girl to follow her, but they manage.

“now, watch and learn if you do wish to do this properly.”

“i’m still not seeing what you mean by that at this poi—”

“i’m going to teach you how to make moondust milk.”

the little girl blinks in perplexion. “moondust milk?”

“yes, moondust milk. it’s deemo’s favourite beverage, never once did he change to something else. he only drinks moondust milk.” the masked lady moves forward to the cupboard, taking several items that resemble bottles and a teapot. “if what you did wish to do just now is to make deemo good beverage, you should watch and learn.”

“but i’m not exactly getting why—”

“if you’re not good enough for that, you can just leave. i’ll just make it on my own.”

the little girl stops. considers the weight of the masked lady’s words. would it be selfish for her to continue her current state in this castle, waiting and waiting to get out? is it terrible of her to have done nothing else of note?

she clenches and unclenches her fists, the motions almost painful.

“... of course i would stay and learn.”

the masked lady might have had a smile in there, but the little girl wouldn’t have known. nevertheless, the little girl keeps her promise and keeps on watching how the masked lady is stirring whatever materials in there—“stardust, moondust, satellite bits and everything else lunar,” the masked lady insisted—and gradually what legitimately looks like chocola—moondust milk comes into existence.

“that’s how you do it, if you understand what i’ve done at all.”

the little girl frowns at the mug. “actually, i think it looks just like the chocolate milk i would’ve made otherwise.”

“what did i tell you about what it’s called?”

the little girl senses a scowl from the masked lady, but somehow she just couldn’t quite swallow down her incredulity. “i know for sure that you know more about this world and deemo than i could possibly imagine, that’s why i trust you to teach me making this. but… at the end of the day, i still couldn’t quite see how this is any different from what i was going to make.”

the masked lady says nothing.

“... i do feel sorry if i touch a nerve, but what i mean is—”

“why don’t you try it?”

she hands the mug to the little girl.

the little girl takes it, albeit reluctantly, and takes a sniff. then, with another wary glance at the masked lady, she takes a sip.

“… it really doesn’t taste much…” the little girl takes another sip. and another sip. “it, it does taste very well…”

“i’m glad you know how to appreciate that then.” the masked lady may has smiled satisfactorily, and she took her leave then.

the little girl took another sip, then resolves to take it to deemo. in the time she takes to walk there, she couldn’t quite find it in her to admit the milk has any bits of moondust at all.

 

⚝

 

the masked lady notices her presence for some time, but alice doubts she could still forge any meaningful conversation with her. despite the best of her efforts, everything she has ever done has only ticked her off, isn’t it?

nevertheless, alice walks up the steps into the masked lady’s reading room.

in the reading room, the masked lady’s shadowy figure could be easily spotted right around the table with piles of books atop it. quite differently though, alice finds a mug sitting on the table as well. in fact, it is placed directly in front of where the masked lady’s view of sight would be set on.

the mask slides into alice’s sight.

“so, you came back again.”

where are all the questions she has? alice nods, a convoluted acknowledgement. “i was planning to ask you something.”

“huh. that’s really funny of you, coming back just to ask some damned questions from me.”

“that’s because you once told me that, you know everything about this place. and you know me better than i do.” alice looks down, losing the strings of words she has put together earlier steadily. “and so… i was thinking of asking you about things again.”

“there’s no hope of that. don’t even think about it.” the masked lady takes another book out of the pile next to her, and in an instant silence fills the room once more.

alice clenches her fist above her heart, something akin to pain rising in her chest.

“if you don’t mind… i really want to know why you have a mug with a night sky painted on it.”

the sound of flipping pages stops.

“i recall that being… somewhat important. i don’t know why for sure, but i was so sure there’s something special about the mug… is it the drink contained inside? that said i can’t see anything in it though…” alice stands on her tiptoes to get a look into the mug, but all she could find is heaps of dust.

the masked lady takes the mug away immediately, and looks into the mug herself. “there’s nothing wrong with it. now leave me alone.”

heaps of dust. dust. the word sparkles across alice’s neurones, a message with a heat to it passing around without leaving a trace.

dust.

dust.

“did you used to make moondust milk?”

the masked lady pauses in her tracks once more.

“… what if i did?”

“then, then i feel like… i…” words jump out of alice in a heap, and in their desperate need to disentangle from one another alice loses meanings for them all once more. “you must know something about it that you want to tell me about, right?”

“i have nothing to tell you about.”

“is the moondust milk very difficult to make?”

the masked lady tilts her head to the left and holds it there.

“… it’s not.”

“can you teach me how to then?”

“i’ve shown you millions of times already, in the past.”

“you did?”

“absolutely. why would i lie about that?” the masked lady gets off the stool, not-so-gently shoving the mug to alice’s chest. “in fact, i think i should be the one asking you to do it. show me that you know how to make it.”

“show that i know how to… ?” alice looks down on the mug again. the lines on the interior draw out a starry night.

“… i will try.”

 

.

 

alice gets into the kitchen hidden just a little bit into the reading room, and a row of freshly-refurbished cupboards are over her head. standing on her tiptoes, she is just tall enough to reach for the ingredients inside.

stardust, moondust, satellite bits and everything else lunar.

“if you don’t mind me asking—”

“i mind you asking anything, but you will ask anyway. so go ahead.”

“do you know where all of this comes from?”

alice isn’t sure if the mask itself could convey what its bearer is feeling, but it does look certain that she has frowned. “of course i know. it’s from the watcher.”

“the watcher on the moon.”

“the watcher on the moon.”

alice grinds down the ingredients and puts them into the mug. is the milk done like that again? she questions in her mind, but her limbs readily keep on. “i think i understand a bit on the nature of this world.”

“i highly doubt you would know more than me.” the masked lady crosses her arms to the side, looking at the filling mug, impervious. “if you do, you wouldn’t come asking me questions everytime you come back.”

“i sure don’t know much, but i do know more.” a smile creeps up on alice’s lips, as she lovingly puts down the mug down in front of the masked lady like presenting a precious feather pen. “the watcher on the moon used to ask me do chores, but some of them aren’t traditional housework stuff. i do recall one being dancing though.”

“and you think that one’s difficult already? you should see what i was doing when i was the one making it.”

the duo chuckle. the masked lady takes a different cup and pours the content of the mug in. “you deserve to have some too.”

“thank you!” alice drinks up the silvery bits with enthusiasm, and the two stay in silence like that for some time.

predictably, for both of them, alice breaks the silence again. “are you sure you will keep making this drink to the end of time? always for deemo?”

“honestly? i don’t know. i don’t even know how long this world will last, even for how much i know about this world.” the masked lady turns away, but alice could vaguely see the masked lady twitching and playing with her gloves in her peripheral. “i know everything about this world, but it doesn’t mean i know everything about all worlds.”

“i still don’t know a lot about this world and the world i live in either,” alice puffs up her chest, taking in a deep breath. “but i think i can manage it now. thank you for the moondust milk again. i think i know this drink enough to bring it back now.”

they stay like that for what both feel like several minutes and an eternity, then the masked lady gets off the table. “you can call me celia.”

 

⚝

 

Practising for the concert tomorrow night, Alice has worked her fingers raw with exhaustion, but her heart’s grown a bit warmer at the sound of the boiler releasing steams.

Making herself moondust milk seems like such a strange affair in this time and age in hindsight, but Alice could never quite feel the strangeness of making it outside of that world. The silky texture and warmth of the milk envelopes her heart, tinted with the happy colours of the pirouettes she used to do and Hans’ radiant smile. Before she knew it, a sun has made a home in her heart.

A sun that perpetually shines on the moon.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are appreciated!!


End file.
